


Personal Trainer

by Badwolf36



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Begging, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Breeding Kink, Cock Rings, Come Inflation, Dirty Talk, Kink Meme, Knotting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 17:50:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1826947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badwolf36/pseuds/Badwolf36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles decides he needs to get stronger. Derek helps him out by introducing Stiles to a unique training regimen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Personal Trainer

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this prompt on Teen Wolf Kink Meme: tnw-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/4905.html?thread=542505. Please leave a comment if you enjoy it!

**Title:** Personal Trainer  
 **Fandom:** Teen Wolf   
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Characters:** Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski  
 **Word count:** 3,787 **  
** **Disclaimer:** I do not own Teen Wolf or any related properties.  
 **Summary:** Derek teaches Stiles to do a proper pull-up. While mounted on his cock.

 

**************************

“It’s good to have goals and incentives when you work out, Stiles. It makes the entire process more enjoyable.”

Derek smiles beatifically up at Stiles, who glares down at him.

“Hate…you,” Stiles pants out. He’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat, while Derek is looking calm and comfortable, stretched out on his back on the black padded workout bench underneath him with his arms tucked casually behind his head. “So…fucking…much.”

They’re in Derek’s loft on a Saturday night, and Stiles is cursing the fact that Derek ever saw him doing (or at least attempting to) pull-ups.

“You told me you wanted me to help you train. I’m helping you train.”

“This is torture,” Stiles snaps, hands slipping off the chin-up bar he’d been clinging to. It’s really a low pipe suspended between two of the cinderblock walls of Derek’s loft, but it serves the same purpose. His hands land on Derek’s naked chest, clammy fingers meeting warm, dry pecs. He gasps as the movement shifts Derek’s bare cock, which is currently impaling his ass. “Torture!”

Derek gives him a smug grin.

“I’ll admit my training is a bit unorthodox, but I had to modify my standard regimen for your…unique needs.”

“Don’t pick on the human,” Stiles huffs, pushing his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

“Not picking on you. Just motivating you. And I can’t help it if that motivation benefits me as well.” He shifts his hips up, bouncing Stiles on his cock a little. “Definite benefit. Now, hands back on that bar.”

“Derek,” Stiles whines.

“Now, Stiles. You wanted to get stronger. Pull-ups are a good place to start for your arms. I know you’ve got your leg routine down pretty well from lacrosse and cross country,” he comments, stroking his smooth, strong hands up Stiles’ thighs, which are pressed against Derek’s ribs. “But there’s always room for improvement.”

He lands a stinging slap on Stiles’ left ass cheek, which makes Stiles cry out. It also makes him jump, and that motion pulls Derek’s dick almost all the way out of his body again.

Stiles slams his hips back down as quickly as he can; a sob wrenching itself out of his mouth. He reluctantly wraps his fingers around the steel bar above his head.

“Cruel,” Stiles says, struggling to pull himself up and off Derek’s body just by flexing his arms. He’d almost be content just to stay sitting on Derek’s cock, but every time he moves, he’s reminded of exactly how _good_ Derek’s heated flesh feels when it’s sliding in and out of him.

“Shift your elbows a little closer to your body,” Derek chimes in after a moment, wiggling his hips as he settles back against the bench. “Your form is off.”

“Less than helpful,” Stiles sing-songs breathlessly, lowering himself back down and squirming as Derek’s thick cock fills him up once again, stretching out his hole.

“You can’t get better if you don’t know what you’re doing wrong,” Derek says, taking far too much enjoyment in this for Stiles’ liking.

“I regret ever asking for your help.”

“No, you don’t,” Derek replies immediately, lifting his hips up so he can do a dirty grind deep into Stiles’ lube-sloppy hole.

“Nnngh, yes. Totally do.”

“Positive?” Derek grins, his fangs descending past his lips. Stiles does another five pull-ups while resolutely ignoring him. It turns out to be easier than he thought because he’s caught up in trying to trap his moans behind his teeth, a task he fails at over and over.

“No,” he sobs out, dropping down hard and mewling with pleasure at the sharp, wonderful ache resonating throughout his entire body. “I lied. No regrets.”

Derek sits up a little, propping his upper body on his elbows.

“Then you’re going to have to work harder if you want your workout reward.”

“Reward?” Stiles perks up, and his own cock slaps against his stomach. He’s been hard practically since they started and his balls are aching something _fierce_ , but the cock ring Derek strapped on him is holding back the orgasm he’s been chasing. He rocks back and forth a little, whimpering because he’s quickly tiring out, but unable to stop when it makes him feel so good.

“Mmmhmm,” Derek says, tracing the tip of his tongue over his fangs. Stiles has always marveled at his ability to do that without cutting himself. “A reward. You do ten more pull-ups, making sure you keep the head of my cock inside that perfect, tight, little wet hole of yours, and you’ll get a special treat.”

Stiles pouts and blushes at the same time, then has to drop the first expression in favor of gasping as Derek shifts and his cock glances up against Stiles’ prostate. When he can breathe again (after a moment of frantically humping his ass against Derek’s hips), he asks “You’re not going to tell me what it is?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Derek retorts. Stiles stops and stares at him for a moment. “What?”

Stiles leans downs quickly and pecks a quick kiss onto Derek’s lips. He also takes a moment to bounce a little on Derek’s cock from the new angle before sitting back up and putting his hands back on the bar.

“Nothing,” he says when Derek raises an eyebrow at him in confusion. “I’m just glad to see you having fun. It’s…you deserve that.”

This time it’s Derek who sits up. He presses one hand to the small of Stiles’ back and the other to the back of his head, pulling him into a dirty kiss that has them both trying to avoid Derek’s fangs.

When they break apart, they’re both panting a little, which makes a bit of pride swell in Stiles’ chest because it’s almost impossible to make a werewolf lose his breath.

“You’re too good,” Derek says, moving the hand on the back of Stiles’ head to his cheek, stroking his thumb over Stiles’ cheekbone. Derek then ducks his head down and presses it to Stiles’ neck, inhaling deeply. Stiles drops his chin onto Derek’s head, but he doesn’t take his hands from the bar.

“I meant every word,” Stiles says. He squirms once in Derek’s lap and then doesn’t stop squirming. “I’d really like to continue with this touching moment, but if I don’t come, I might die.”

“Way to ruin the moment, Stiles.” Derek chuckles into his neck before reclining back onto the bench, settling his hands on Stiles’ hips. “Alright, ten more. Then you get a reward.”

“You’re a…” Stiles starts, but has to stop to catch his breath. “Sadistic bastard.”

“I can always make it twenty. Or more. You might like more.”

“No!” Stiles snaps.

Derek thrusts up, making Stiles’ body bounce off him an inch from the force.

“Better get started then.”

Stiles’ snarl gets mixed with a moan, but he obediently begins straining to pull himself upward.

“Don’t use your legs,” Derek reminds him. “This is sort of a modified form of a pull-up anyway, what with your legs not hanging down and you not pulling your full weight up, but that’s no excuse to be sloppy.”

“I’ll show you sloppy,” Stiles retorts, but he nonetheless makes sure not to use his legs to push himself up into his next pull-up.

He doesn’t speak after that, instead gasping and squirming as Derek helpfully narrates his exercise by counting his pull-ups and providing tips like “Your grip is slipping” and “Shift the weight through your shoulders. You’re lopsided.”

Stiles had responded to that with a snapped “You’re lopsided,” but he’d also completed his tenth pull-up right after that. He’d let the tips of his fingers sit against the bar as the rest of his body slumped forward, leaving him arched toward Derek.

“Phew! Ugh. Awful. I’m sweaty and disgusting and I’m sort of hoping that reward is a shower.”

Derek smiles up at him.

“Not a shower, although we can certainly add that to your reward. No, I was thinking of something that would involve a bit more sweating.”

Derek again starts twisting his hips, grinding into Stiles’ hole in a way that has him almost sobbing with pleasure. And then Stiles feels something _extra_ tugging at the rim of his hole _._

“Oh my god, are you knotting me?”

“Is that a suitable reward?”

Stiles uses the strength he still has in his legs to start shifting his body, sliding Derek’s cock in and out of his body as much as he can with its growing girth.

“Ah! God! Good, so good, so good!” He whimpers and whines, and then Derek starts _talking._

“I love it when I can take my time and knot you. Love it when you start begging me for it. But then, I love it even _more_ when you _can’t_ beg me for it, when you’re so far beyond words that you’re just bouncing on my cock like you can’t do anything else.”

He makes an appreciative noise.

“You get so pretty when you’re like that. You just take it so well. And I love filling you with come, love thinking about you brimming with it, so full you can’t think about anything else.” He pauses. “And I think you like it too, don’t you?”

Stiles’ fingers scrabble at the pull-up bar so he can better shift around. The move also lets Derek’s knot sink that much deeper into his body. The growing, supernaturally warm flesh presses up against his prostate, which makes pleasure shoot from his groin to the tips of his toes and the crown of his head. He shudders on top of Derek, whining as he tries to decide whether he wants Derek to keep fucking him or just knot him and keep him full.

“I want to keep you just like this, squirming on my knot and my dick. I want to breed you until I can see my come filling you up, but even that won’t be enough for you, will it? You’ll beg me to fuck you again and again, until you’re so full that it looks like I’ve got you with a big litter of pups.”

Stiles whines, but he can’t form actual words to dispute or enthusiastically agree with any of what Derek said. To be truthful, he’s not even sure which side of the issue he sits on, although he’s pretty sure it’s the side that gets him fucked speechless.

“Ah, feels so good,” Derek says breathily. “I want you hanging off my knot all the time. You could be my perfect little fucktoy, always slicked up with my come. And any time I wanted, I could just add another hot load to your ass.”

Derek grinds up, which makes Stiles cry out in pleasure and a not-insubstantial amount of pain as Derek’s knot pops fully into his hole and then stays there.

“Oh god. Oh god. Oh godohgodohgod!”

He can’t actually feel Derek’s come shooting into his body, but he can feel Derek twitching and shimmying beneath him, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining the blooming warmth at his core.

“Please,” he begs. “Wanna come. Let me come, Derek. Wanna come on your knot.”

Stiles clenches down, savoring the burn that shoots through his system at feeling Derek’s knot brushing against his prostate. He tries to keep begging, but his voice starts failing when it comes to actual words and all he can do is moan out “Hnngh.”

Derek’s eyes are clenched shut and he’s panting heavily as his orgasm continues, but Stiles hears him murmur something.

“Whuh?” he manages.

“Ten more pull-ups,” Derek repeats. “Want to feel you…unh…feel you. Want to watch my come drip out of your ass and see you just keep fucking yourself.”

“Holy shit!” Stiles feels his eyes roll back a little as he drops fully onto Derek’s body, his grip on the bar failing and sending him crashing into Derek’s chest. The move yanks Derek’s knot against Stiles’ rim, stretching the muscle out in a way Stiles is sure would be absolutely obscene if he could see it. He makes a note to talk to Derek about mirrors before Derek grabs his hips and slams against him, destroying anything approaching a coherent thought.

“Derek!” he sobs out.

“You can do it,” Derek says, his voice low and encouraging. “Want to see you bouncing on my cock. Want to keep stuffing you full. Want you to come all over us both. Want _you._ ”

Stiles sobs again, unable to choke back his cries. He’s strung out on pleasure and pain, too far gone from not being able to come and having Derek stretch him so wide and so deep (and he’s still filling him up with come; Stiles is positive he can feel it now).

“Can’t,” he whimpers, even as he reaches up his right hand to again grip the pull-up bar.

“You want to be good for me, Stiles,” Derek practically purrs, the words tripping off his fanged teeth with deliciously dark intent. He shudders in pleasure as another aftershock hits him, and Stiles is taken along for the ride as Derek’s hips buck. “Otherwise, you won’t get to come. And it would be a terrible waste not to see you writhing on my cock like you’re doing now, unable to help yourself as you come so hard. You love being spitted on my cock, don’t you? Love feeling it deep inside you? How does it feel?”

Derek strokes his hand over Stiles’ abs, feeling the taut, sweaty flesh there, and Stiles whimpers.

“Full,” he moans. “God, so full.”

He looks down at himself, examines the angles of his body as Derek continues kneading at him, hands drifting up to tweak his nipples into even stiffer peaks than they’ve already achieved.

“I think I can see it,” Stiles says, partly in awe and partly in disbelief. There does seem to be the slightest curve to his stomach, which certainly matches up with the slightly bloated feeling he’s experiencing as Derek keeps dumping load after load of come inside of his body. Damn werewolves and their freaky, wonderful biology.

“How could you possibly come this much?” he asks as his own balls tighten in anticipation of orgasm, only to be thwarted by the cock ring.

“You’re amazing,” Derek says, and he sounds reverent. His hands keep roving over Stiles’ body, although he’s spending a lot more time on his stomach than any other part of him, pinching and stroking the flesh there. “Such a perfect…”

He doesn’t finish whatever he was going to say, cut off by yet another aftershock. Stiles knows the knot is deflating a little because he starts to feel come dripping down his taint from his hole.

“Want to breed you,” Derek says when he catches his breath. He’s repeating himself, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Want to keep you pumped full until it takes. You take it so good.”

Derek’s hands slip back around Stiles, gripping his ass cheeks hard before his fingers move down and he starts tracing the pads of them along Stiles’ stretched-out hole. He teases the edges, fingernails pressing up against his dick inside Stiles.

Stiles whines, and the sound is purely animal.

“Do it,” Derek breathily commands. “Do it.”

Stiles gets his hands in position on the bar, and is entirely unsurprised that they’re shaking. He pulls himself up, whimpering as Derek’s still-full knot tugs hard at his rim.

“Derek!”

“One,” Derek says. “Come on, I know you can do it.”

Stiles pulls up again, this time abandoning the pretense of this being a workout and using his legs.

“Two. Three.”

The come slipping out of his hole is getting more copious now. He feels wet, and wonders if this is what a girl feels like when she gets turned on. It’s strange, but it’s not bad.

“Four. Five. Ahhh. Six. Doing so good, baby.”

“Don’t…don’t call me baby,” Stiles stutters out.

Derek smirks up at him.

“I’ve told you not to call me a lot of things, and yet you do. Think of this as turnabout being fair play. Unh! Good!” he responds as Stiles drops down onto him in one swift movement.

“Please,” Stiles begs, sweat rolling off his chin to spatter on Derek’s chest and throat. He twists his hips around, savoring the burn and the absolutely _indecent_ noises from their bodies coming together. “You have to take off the ring. You have to…ah! You have to let me come. Please!”

“No,” Derek says. “Almost there. You’re so close.”

“I’m close now!” Stiles snaps.

“Four more, Stiles,” Derek insists. He reaches out a hand and curls it around Stiles’ cock, which is slippery with the precome he’s been leaking all over himself and Derek’s chest. Stiles jolts forward into Derek’s grip, can’t not, but the stimulation isn’t quite what he needs, leaving him desperate in his frustration.

“Derek,” he whines in protest.

“Gonna make you so filthy,” Derek croons instead of responding, still stroking Stiles’ cock. “Can’t decide whether I want you to walk around the loft dripping my come or plug you up and keep you full, just keep coming inside you whenever I feel like it. You’ll be so full you won’t even be able to move, and yet you’ll just keep begging me for it.”

“Derek!” Stiles whines again, this time from the sheer incandescence of the images Derek is painting with his words. He manages another pull-up, because not moving is infinitely worse than the pleasure-pain of moving.

“Seven,” Derek says, sounding pleased. “The door to the loft is unlocked. Anyone could walk in right now, see you speared on my dick and begging me for it. Maybe I should take you out to a gym, make you do your exercise routine there. Oooo, eight.”

Stiles sobs. Derek’s knot has shrunk enough now that it’s popping in and out of his hole each time he pulls himself up and then drops back down.

“Please,” he begs. “Please. You have to…please.”

“Almost there, Stiles. So good. Keep going. So close.” Derek’s voice is breathy, and Stiles gets the feeling that Derek is talking as much about Stiles completing his pull-ups as he is about coming again. He starts fiddling with the ring around Stiles’ cock though, aiming for the latch, so Stiles abruptly stops caring.

He uses his thighs, muscles burning now, to assist his body in its slow drag up and almost off Derek’s cock. Derek’s heated flesh rubs against Stiles in all the right ways, and the heated coil in his belly that is just pure sensation (not the ridiculous amount of come Derek is pouring into him) tightens up a little more.

“Nine.”

Stiles thought he’d been imagining it, but Derek’s knot is definitely swelling again, even as more come gets crammed into Stiles.

“Unnngh,” he manages, straining upward for what he hopes will be the last time.

“Ten,” Derek says, and it feels to Stiles like the world freezes because he can actually hear the cock ring releasing from around his genitals. “Come on my knot.”

He grinds down, whimpering, and actual tears spring up in his eyes at how good he feels, how absolutely strung out and wrecked Derek has made him.

Derek does a perfect sit-up, wrapping his hands around the pull-up bar as well; his hands bracketing Stiles’ own. The motion knocks the breath out of Stiles.

Once Stiles gasps in two great gulps of air, he rocks forward onto Derek’s knot and against his chest, finally getting that last little bit of friction he needs to plunge straight down into an orgasm that sends his entire body twitching with how good it feels. He thinks he might scream, but he can’t really hear anything over the rushing in his ears.

He jolts back to awareness with Derek petting his arms and hands, telling him to relax. Stiles feels his fingers slip off the bar without much input from him, and he lands on Derek, who reaches out and shifts Stiles’ stiff legs around until they’re wrapped around Derek’s waist.

Once that’s done, Derek stands up and carries Stiles to his bed. The journey is short, but Stiles moans continuously throughout it because Derek’s steps keep him bouncing on the man’s cock the entire way, little minute shifts that have him squirming in retaliation for the pleasurable torture. He gets Derek to grunt every couple of feet, so he calls it a victory.

“So good for me,” Derek says as he lies down and arranges them the best he can, which is chest-to-chest with Derek’s legs stretched out and Stiles with one leg straight and the other hitched up a little to accommodate the way they’re stuck together. “We’ll get cleaned up, but let’s just rest for a bit, okay?”

“Broke me,” Stiles murmurs into Derek’s collarbone. “Never ‘xercise ‘gain.”

Derek chuckles and his hands trace down Stiles’ sides, feeling the slight curve of his abdomen. Stiles watches as Derek sighs softly and shuts his eyes another aftershock rolls through him.

He tries to take stock of himself. He’s boneless with pleasure, his thoughts are coming at a pace that he imagines a normal person’s might (while his ADHD is sometimes helpful, sometimes it keeps him from enjoying things), and he feels…full.

“God, soooo full,” Stiles says. “You’re…menace.” He slaps weakly at Derek’s shoulder, but he can’t even work up the energy to lift his head and glare at him.

“Does it hurt?” Derek asks. He leeches a little of Stiles’ discomfort away, and Stiles moans loudly enough that if Derek had neighbors he’d be concerned about a noise complaint. And god, that’d be an awkward conversation with his dad.

“S’good,” Stiles answers, rolling back and forth a little on Derek’s chest so that he can really feel everything. “Maybe I’ll…” he interrupts himself with a yawn, “exercise a _little_ bit.”

He lifts his hips up a little, groaning at the wet _squelch_ it causes.

“You’ve got a personal trainer 24/7,” Derek says, then pinches Stiles’ sides gently. “Although, I wouldn’t mind if you stayed all plump and…”

Stiles sinks his teeth lightly into Derek’s shoulder.

“Ow!”

“I…uh…I don’t mind this.” Stiles blushes a little, pressing his right palm against his expanded side above where Derek is caressing him. “I obviously, really, _really_ don’t mind…um…yeah…this. It’s sort of awesome, actually. But I’m trim and svelte and powerful…and…and don’t you forget it.

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles and kisses the side of his face.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m yours, too,” Stiles adds, lifting his heavy head up enough to kiss Derek. They break apart and Derek smiles at Stiles until he returns the expression.

“Same,” Derek says, and then kisses him again. 

 


End file.
